


Stakes

by helena_s_renn



Series: Play the Game [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Consent Issues, Future Fic, M/M, Objectification, Oral Sex, Sex for Favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Jensen's first time doing something for Jared, for pay. They start with some basic oral. Only it's Jared on his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stakes

**Author's Note:**

> If any of the descriptions or tags are squicks or triggery for you, don't read. Some folks might also call this infidelity. I call it fiction.  
> Mentions of: Chad/Jared (from the last chapter), The J's wives.  
> Beta by Christian.Howe.

Jared conducted most ‘business’, as he called it, in his attached three-car garage. He’d had it air-conditioned, sound-proofed, and when he was playing, he rounded up the remotes for the overhead doors and locked everything down. And, as per their long-standing agreement, he texted Genevieve their secret code, 18120K, just in case. 

His boys were always a little taken aback, during their first visit. The place was spick and span, industrial-feeling, concrete floor and white semi-gloss walls. An overhead loft contained a bed; an armoire which hid a TV and supplies; a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower; and a kitchenette, yet most of the first-timers expected either a full-on dungeon or a luxury condo somewhere off-site and gated. He did have his little room downstairs, rarely used. Instead of all the fake showiness, Jared preferred to see how they handled the off-balance nature of this setting. As a plus, it kept his overhead minimal. And made for easy clean-up.

When Jared considered the chance of him and Jensen talking about the last encounter, he calculated that at slim to none. A startled, spooked Jensen had unstrapped him from the Velcro bindings and helped him limp to the nearest bathroom, muttering 'how could he do that?' type sentiments. He'd waited outside the shower to make sure Jared wasn't going to pass out, and was good enough to stand around with his back turned during the process of Jared bandaging himself. After that, he'd fled. Jared, walking even more bowlegged than Jensen, was left to clean the little room the scene had played out in and lock it, till a delegation of dogs and kids had found him and he'd put it from his mind till much later. Gen had clucked at him and raised her eyebrows, but let him hold her throughout the night. She'd seen worse. Had even nursed his wounds a couple of times. Jared never stopped thanking the powers that be that the woman he'd chosen managed to own him so irrefutably that she didn't even question that he'd return to her. 

In the morning, he found a text that he'd been too out of it to look for, the previous night. They were so on. 

*/*/*/*

Arriving promptly at 2:30PM, Jensen, having visited him at home several times in years past, gave him a wary look, as if Jared were a large drooling canine that just might bite, but carried himself fairly relaxed, not like the other night. Jared led him through the house, through the kitchen and laundry room and the connecting door to the garage. As they walked in, chatting about nothing, the large open space echoed and magnified the sounds of their steps and voices. Jared had left his truck outside, locked, in the driveway; Gen and their two kids would be gone for the afternoon and evening. It was just them, in all that space. Eyes darting here and there, Jensen perused the nearly empty garage but for two trash bins, a few basic tools hung on a pegboard wall, and miscellaneous patio and sporting equipment. Then he shrugged, and turned to Jared, intent. “Uh... so where do we.... right here today?”

“Yep. Or up there, depending on what your offer is.” Jared gestured toward stairs leading up. “It’s like a tiny studio apartment. With a king-sized bed,” he leered. “So.” He found them a couple of folding chairs with dark blue waterproof canvas seats and backs, and set one out for each of them, facing.

“So.” Jensen seated himself, legs spread wide apart in his typical fashion, so wide Jared could see the meeting of the inseams with the front and back double-stitched seams of his dark jeans.

He almost skipped it, but at the last second, Jared settled into a bit of small talk. This was his show, yet he didn't want to spook the star attraction into running because he was too abrupt – or pervy -- to perform social niceties. So far, no money had changed hands and right now, he was loaded for bear. Money and otherwise - since the cutting night, he hadn't allowed himself to cum, all hands off. If Jensen's shoulder angel slapped down the other, red, horned guy, or if the man lost his nerve, who knew what, if anything, was going to happen today. But, it would have been more of a freak show than it already was to jump right in. So they shot the shit for a few minutes, till Jared had crossed, uncrossed, and re-crossed his ankle over his knee about ten times and couldn't take it anymore.

“So, about the arrangement... You wanna ask me more questions, or do you want to do things today? Up to you.” 

There. It dangled in the air, a tense breath to surround their sphere. The power of this, calling the shots, got Jared off more than almost anything, the sex itself secondary. Already, he was feeling the rush of it, that buzz. Yet something was different. He actually had butterflies. And god, he hoped. He wanted. 'Jensen's here. I'm going to do things to him.' Rather than render him jittery, it helped him focus. Flashing dimples in a disarming smile, he waited, honing in on Jensen’s face. 

The same freckles Jared had memorized from eight-plus years of early mornings scattered his nose and the area below his eyes. His skin looked rougher, drier, like he’d been out in the sun a lot, or smoking too much. Or too many late nights and worries. His eyes said the same. And the faint crows feet cut deeper. It only made him more appealing to Jared. 

“Well... In fact I have a few more questions,” Jensen broached the subject at large.

“Shoot.” Jared leaned back; he'd expected as much.

Licking his lips, Jensen gave him his eyes and shifted his butt on the chair. “Well... why all this, I guess?”

“Told you the other night at the bar: I have certain tastes and the money to indulge myself. Only with people I know, or who come recommended. Not many of them, either, despite what you may have heard. And then they get paid. Doesn't hurt anything if they enjoy it, too.” Jared kept his eyes locked on Jensen’s, who fidgeted but didn’t, or couldn’t, look away. The ratio of iris to pupil varied from moment to moment, enough that Jared wondered if he’d taken something. With the next blink he checked for needle tracks, and found none. So at least there was that. 

“Okay, but... why me, then?” Jensen’s entire face scrunched once, relaxed, eyelids down, dangerously like flirting. 

What the fuck? He had to ask? Maybe it was because of their long years as colleagues, where nothing had happened in all that time except on camera, that Jensen felt enough leftover... genuine curiosity? respect? ...to have to ask. His heart warming unexpectedly, Jared floundered a minute before he could answer in a normal voice. “Dude, you called me. And you brought it up. You need money, I guess?”

Jensen’s gaze darted right. 'True.' Also a topic Jensen was highly uncomfortable with.

“What about what Chad said?”

“Oh, fuck his noise,” Jared rolled his eyes. “Do you really believe anything that comes out of that guy's face?” It felt a little like betrayal, blowing his best friend's words off like that.

“I'm aware of his reputation, sure. I also know we’re not 22 anymore. You know. To play those games." Jensen paused, as if to say he knew Jared telling him to disregard Chad's 'noise' was a half-truth of sorts, but wouldn't press. "Can I name a condition, up front?” Jared made a hand gesture to indicate he could ask. “No video tapes, digital or otherwise.”

“Not unless you decide later that you want to do that,” Jared smirked. He got to use his deep, velvety sex-voice for the first time, and watched with satisfaction as Jensen uneasily hitched his ass in the other direction. “Your nipples are hard,” he remarked. It was true; he could see the little pink points through the pale linen button-down. “Pretty. So what else?” 

“This is just... bizarre. I beat off and you just hand me a couple grand? I still can’t really believe it.” While he’d accepted it at face value before, it seemed like Jensen had been dwelling on it, mulling it around in his mind, swaying toward disbelief. Yet he was leaning forward, trying to accept it as real. 

“So... show you the money? Is that what you mean? Well, I suppose, just this once. We have to be able to trust each other.” 

Whatever openness had been present in Jensen’s demeanor slammed shut. 

Jared just laughed. “Yeah, man. Okay. And I trust you not to grab this and run.” He leaned to the side in his seat, enough to draw out the envelope of hundreds from the right-side pocket of his cargo shorts. “Count it up. There’s more where that came from.” 

Looking glazed, Jensen thumbed quickly through the bills but didn’t count them. He nodded and pressed his lips together. Whatever else, the unique conformity of them, especially the upper with it's center dip below the philtrum, still had the power to stab Jared straight through the guts and through the balls with their blinding perfection. It evoked a half-fantasy, half-remembered vision of Jensen aroused and ready, so intense Jared had to clench his hands into fists to keep from launching himself across the space between them. 

“Fine. But you didn’t answer me. You could’ve laughed off the whole thing, denied it. Or told me to go fuck myself. But you didn’t. Why?” Jensen was balancing dogged determination with whatever internal strength told him he had a right to know. Chad, that little fucker, had done a number on Jen with his song and dance over Jared’s wrung-out body. Dramatics by Mayhem. 

Jared could understand the asking. He really could - look at all the crazy shit that fans did and said and wrote, even still. And this... was disconcertingly similar. He squinted, tightened his jaw. Yeah, Jared could look mean when he wanted to. He’d learned from the best, _not_ meaning the man in front of him. Jensen’s fingers twitched, and he swallowed, the soft skin of his throat below the haphazard line of two-day stubble moving in opposition to his Adam’s apple.

“Are you asking if I have some deeply buried case of the hots for you? It's more like... I always wondered if there could have been more. We have history, but it was never that kind of history. Not even after I blew you.” Jared did his very best to remain calm. If there was going to be any ego- or fear-based posturing of the non-sexual sort in response to his denial, he was done. 

"But... Why didn't you say something years ago? We're both married and... kids... Can’t say for sure what I might’ve done but I’d... well, who cares, right? It’s a moot point now." 

There was no good answer. Jared shrugged. He'd never intended to get so psychologically naked like this. "Yeah, I dunno. Didn't understand what I was feeling at the time. And... yet you're here now anyway." Brutal, but necessary. "Isn't that correct?"

"I'm... I need to provide for my family." The truth of that shone off Jensen's face in terrible purity. 

Jared nodded. "I know."

"That... Doesn't it bother you? That I'm in this for the money?" 

Letting his breath out slow and even, Jared replied carefully, "No. Why would it? I'm not nursing any unresolved issues, here. Are you? It’s been how many years? I have Chad mess me up when it gets to be too much." He'd never said that aloud. Of course, Chad had thrown it in his face plenty times, peppered with expletives. "You... you're looking for something like that, Jensen, maybe for different underlying reasons. Now are you done trying to psychoanalyze me yet, or do I have to throw your bitch ass out of here?”

Glaring, Jensen inhaled sharply through his nostrils. He shoved the envelope, folded once, into the back pocket of his jeans and stood, feet planted wide. “I'm done when you are. So... right here?” He sounded pissed. 

Jared made a show of looking around the mostly-empty, stark garage. “Yeah, why not?” It drew his eye, how the familiar hands flew to the silver belt buckle. “Hold up,” he cautioned. “I want a minimum of 30 minutes. And the money shot on my face. More – cash, that is – if I can touch you." The other night, he’d said clearly that it was offer and counter-offer. Having to reinforce it annoyed Jared, but he could overlook it once or twice. 

“Uh...” 

“Too hard to understand?” Jared flicked his eyes down. “Nope, doesn’t look too hard at all. Sure you’ll be able to do this?” Overripe with concern, the question issued the age-old challenge to the other’s masculinity.

“Bitch!”

“Nuh-uh, Jensen. No Supernatural references. Ever.”

Another slow, slacked-mouthed blink. “Good god, you're fucking bossy.” 

“Duh. Today, I could be about five grand of bossy, or even more, up to you. You ever decide you really wanna get down and dirty, you’ll see what an iron-fisted tyrant I can be.” Jared was on his feet. One just didn’t say things like that and not tower over their opponent. “Now state your offer.” 

Face reddening, Jensen stared up and finally rasped, “I’ll jerk it for you. On your face. Your mouth on my cock is... okay. Lick, suck, whatever. No teeth. No touching with hands.” 

“Okay, your call. You don’t get to touch me, either, then. No pushing my head down or pulling hair.” With that, Jared backed off a step. Rattled, Jensen turned his attention back to his belt, pulling the thin black leather strip back, thumbing the pin loose, letting the two ends dangle from his belt loops. Obviously, Dean’s silver ring was long gone. The shiny gold on his opposite hand needled Jared as all wrong, forget that he wore an almost identical band. 

When he finished contemplating that, Jared looked over to see Jensen circling the button on his jeans with his thumb, trancelike. “Are you stalling?” he barked. 

“No, it’s just... half an hour? What am I supposed to do for that long?”

Jared rolled his eyes, then his shoulders. “How many times can you get off? Oh, right, what are you, like forty now? Well, just go slow, then. Strip.” 

It had faded, but the blush flared up again, obscuring Jensen’s freckles. His jaw muscles flashed once. Lids lowered, Jensen finally popped the button. Without any touch, the zipper undid itself a third of the way down, the fly V-ing enough to show a bright white waistband of underwear, with recognizable designer lettering. A tremor ran up his body and he froze, then slowly pulled the zipper the rest of the way down. 

Jared could tell: he was over-thinking. “Take your shirt off. Unbutton it for me.” 

A sigh, suspiciously like relief, swelled Jensen’s chest; he let it out in two breaths, a quick huff, then a longer exhale. Starting at the top, he took a minute to fumble open all six buttons on the front of his shirt, sliding it back off his shoulders and hanging it over the chair back. While Jensen was distracted, perhaps self-conscious about taking his clothes off, Jared took the opportunity to get on his knees. It wasn’t deference; he was more in control, eye to eye with the main action. 

A few years ago, Jared had observed his co-star's body slowly going soft. Not flabby, but not at all what a body in Hollywood or film industry at large could get away with. Perhaps from having to seek work, this current Jensen’s torso was tight, abs nowhere as ripped as Jared’s but respectable, pecs hard, more flat than bulging, still hairless. His arms were packed, the deltoid and triceps notably thick and dense – they resembled Jensen's own self at twenty-seven or –eight, there. So why was he avoiding Jared's eyes, all shame-faced? Performance anxiety? Well, Jared wouldn’t push. Much. Since it was strictly hands off, he would have to make love to Jensen with his eyes. Shit, had he really just thought that? It wasn’t love, but he sure as hell appreciated what stood before him. 

Noticing the heated scrutiny, Jensen flinched. He took another steadying breath and pushed his jeans down to his knees, leaving the underwear in place. His pheromones had dissipated enough into the cool air to pick up the scent now. Jared’s cock twitched hard, blood rushing in. He didn’t acknowledge it – today, that was not on the table. It never was, the first time. 

How Jensen managed to step out of his shoes and jeans without falling on his ass, who knew, but he had. Familiar with the brand of the boxer briefs Jensen wore, the cradling cut of them and the softness of the cloth, Jared made a conscious decision to let his thoughts and mouth run free. With all his boys but Chad, he'd kept up a facade of grim, almost formal scenes. He'd tried the "this is my house" bit on Jensen, and while the man did what he asked - technically - his mien lacked any "yes, sir!" submissiveness. Inexperience could account for that. So could a blatant lack of respect for rules, but Jared didn't sense that. 

"Very nice. I'd like to see more." Jared twirled his index finger, adding, "Slowly." 

Obeying, or simply obliging, Jensen shuffled 180 degrees. That put Jared's face about level with the small of his back. There was a nice arch, then the flaring width of his torso above, the swell of his ass below. Not starting anything yet, though he longed to nuzzle into the curve and lay kisses in the dimples or the valley of his spine, Jared made sure Jensen would be able to feel every hot exhale as he was inspected up close. 

"You're looking good," Jared remarked. He didn't expect any justification; they both knew the Biz. Jensen grunted like it was all the same to him, and said nothing. "Turn again." 

Though Jensen wasn’t hard, the shape of his generous balls and the slant and fat head of his dick were all evident, bulging the fabric. Above the elastic, the thin line of downy dark-blond hairs ended at his navel. 

How the bloody freaking hell was Jared supposed to not touch? Having agreed to ‘no hands’, he’d have to live with the stipulation. No hands. Hm. As Jared knelt on the concrete, he looked up, catching Jensen in the act of casting his eyes aside guiltily. “I’m gonna rub my face in your crotch now," he announced. “Unless you have any objections." 

Jensen’s entire body lurched. “Uh... mph!” He struggled for words while Jared silently encouraged him to man up already. “I object... to the tune of five hundred bucks.”

“Good boy,” Jared was rewarded by the tips of those big ol’ Texas ears going scarlet, “and done.” 

He gave no other warning. Inhaling deeply, Jared nosed into the space adjacent to the pungent, guarded swell. Yes, he’d had it all before – once - but not on his own terms. It was still new, private and personal, here. His cheekbone met ultra-soft knit. Below that, his skin receptors made out the contours of male anatomy. There, a rubbery resistance, the curved cylinder of shaft, then head. Jared rubbed the other side of his face across the boxer briefs, lips parted, pleased with the unmistakable twitch and rise from under the cloth barrier. God, his fingers itched to just reach up and spring that fine, dusky flesh, to gather the balls in one hand. Not bothering to stifle his own little grunts, Jared planted a kiss to the covered glans, and it jumped. A happy noise slipped from him, and he mouthed at the round protrusion. The fabric was moist now, either from his enthusiastic slobbering, or maybe from Jensen getting wet. Jared loved that idea almost more than that of the man cumming for him. 

“Nice,” Jared hissed. “Take it out; show me how you do yourself.” Dammit, he was hard as fuck now. It was going to be a struggle to get the rigid, surging thing in his pants out of danger, but he managed to rearrange his angle without breaking anything. 

A few more breaths. Would Jensen go through with it? It was surrender, Jared could feel it, but he still delighted in it. Sitting back on his heels, he reached down to palm himself at the same time Jensen slid his right hand, fingers outstretched and held together, under the elastic. His breathing hiccoughed once, fingers making contact. The bulge shifted and grew as Jensen touched himself behind the shield of underwear. 

The hard-on grew, too, the shape of it poking out at 90 degrees, the emerging helmet shape of the head stretching the cloth. Seeing more glistening slick appear through woven threads where Jensen’s slit must be, Jared demanded, his face no more than two inches from the lovingly-stroked, erect, if still-hidden cock, “Take it out,” and he breathed in deep: the tang of ball-sweat flew up his nose. “ _Now_. I won’t ask nicely again.”

Eyes closed tightly, Jensen tugged the waistband down with the thumb of his left hand. The right fist wrapped tight around his dick, the pad of his thumb pressed down against the nail of the middle finger to hold that circle. From Jared’s perspective, it looked as if he were trying to stroke himself and cover his last bit of modesty at the same time. Enough of that shit. Jared stuck out his tongue and licked once, twice across the red-purple dome. Yeah, he caught the side of Jensen’s finger, a deliberate move. Wide, shocky green eyes stared down, incredulous. 

“You taste sweet, you know.” Jared shrugged. “I pay extra for that.”

“What, like a tip?” 

Jared licked once more, moaning at the tiny spurt across his taste buds. “Yeah... tip.” 

He looked up expectantly. At that point, the blush could’ve been embarrassment or sex-flush or both, but Jensen was getting into the act, forearm moving rhythmically. Skin shushed against skin. Despite the stiff flesh in evidence, Jensen's forehead wrinkled like he wasn't enjoying it much. Damned if Jared wasn't going to remedy that. 

“Spit in your hand... next time, bring lube.” 

“Don’t you have any?” Jensen panted.

“Yeah, but I’m not fetching it now.” 

"Nng... Jare... Put your mouth on me." Jensen's tone crept upwards, like it did when he was about to laugh or cry. 

Mouth held open, Jared looked up as if to say, 'You want to use this, you'll have to come get it.' A second later, his oral cavity was invaded, filled with musky throbbing flesh, veins fluttering against his tongue. Hell, yes! Sealing his lips shut tight, Jared inhaled and sucked down for all he was worth. Fingers scrabbled through his hair, retreated; Jensen gasped and pumped his hips, already starting to shake. His cock slid in and out, slick from Jared's spit, still swelling. 

No stranger to technique, Jared let him rut. His teeth scraped the inner surfaces of his lips; his nose buried in trimmed curls while his chin bumped between tense, upward-creeping balls. Jared was glad he'd shaved close today. Slow it down, though? Only his need for air every minute did that. After five, six breaths, Jensen was growling, or moaning, Jared wasn't sure. His hand had alighted on Jared's shoulder to steady himself. Technically, it wasn't allowed. Jared let him, anyway. Through his shirt, the contact there still burned him, sending white-hot signals to his balls. 

When he needed a break, Jared pulled away sharply. His eyes were running, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"My god... Fuck! Don't stop now!" Jensen whined, unable to stop two more sharp jabs of his hips. 

"Jerk it for me," ordered Jared. "Nice and dirty now." 

With a grunt which might have been protest or understanding, Jensen wrapped his fingers around himself. It was one of the hottest things Jared had ever seen. Optical illusion though it was, the visual of Jensen’s round, leaking glans thrusting into his face, that close to his eyes, made it look a mile wide. Thick blunt fingers, thick blunt cock, thick thighs, but streamlined, sensual Jensen, stroking his meat while Jared inspected every fold of skin and freckle, every tendon and hair. The resonance of ‘man self-pleasuring’ sent tingles down Jared’s spine to his ass and gonads. Pre-cum and sweat made him itch and dampened his boxers. That was okay; they might be worse for the wear before long.

Only, it went on and on, too long. The flush centered into two streaks of color on Jensen’s cheeks; he wasn’t going to be able to...

“What’re you thinking about?” Jared hissed. 

“My wife.” This was bitten-off sounding. Angry. 

“You’re lying.”

Finally, Jensen cracked a smile. Still didn’t look humorous. “Circa 2006.” 

Jared could give him that. He flicked his tongue out, twice, probing the slit. “Mm... so is she really a redhead?”

“Yeah, dude, but don’t... I don’t comment about Gen.” Jensen squeezed those words out like he had no air in his lungs. The slap-slap rhythm quickened. 

“Wouldn’t care if you did. Neither would she.” 

That got a snort. Impatient, Jensen stopped jacking long enough to slide the underwear down to mid-thigh and spit into his hand. 

“Beautiful, Jensen,” Jared praised him. “If it weren’t ‘no touching’ and contrary to your terms, I’d have those balls in my mouth so damned fast.” 

A pained little squeak marked Jensen’s only comment. The repetitive motion resumed; Jared shut up and let it unfold, so to speak, before his eyes. He would bet it’d been a good long while since Jensen had stroked off. The slide of his saliva-slicked fist up and down the heft of his purple-tipped erection accelerated, bordering on desperation. Above the indents of his hipbones, Jensen’s flat belly trembled; he cursed a low string of dirty words at every swipe of his thumb over the wet slit. 

That his name was included in that choked-out filth didn’t bother Jared. Maybe it should have, but as far as he was concerned, if the man was giving in to his dirtiest, most deeply-buried fantasies, then good for him; if he really was cursing Jared’s name, well, angry sex could be damned hot. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah... god yeah... oh!” The surprised blink Jensen had always delivered as Dean Winchester’s O-face was there, but that wasn’t all. Hips shifting in restless little thrusts, Jensen screwed his eyes shut tight and bared his teeth. Another acceleration and he grunted like he’d been kicked in the gut and finally, spunk flew, landed warm and sticky on Jared’s face and hair, dripped down his neck, clotted his lashes. "So hot, Jen, so goddamn hot... Gotta come..." Jared choked out. Any moment now, he was gonna.

Gradually reducing speed, Jensen milked himself out, till the sticky ooze was nothing but a thin thread across his reddened little slit. “Jared...!” he hissed as shudders wracked him. 

Warm, stringy fluid ran down Jared's face. Mostly the way that Jensen called for him in this intimate, albeit paid-for, moment had him creaming himself just like he’d halfways planned, jizz jetting up his belly and soaking his boxers. 

Stumbling backwards, Jensen managed to cover himself and sit down heavily. He held his hands over his crotch as if to hide it, even now. Unable to keep a grin off his face, Jared pulled a pack of wet wipes from another of his pockets and made short work of the clean-up of his face. The rush was the same as always – endorphin-laced and victorious. Jen’s seed coated the inside of his mouth, his teeth; it tasted bitter, like he’d been drinking a lot. After licking his lips experimentally, Jared swallowed most of it, but he also spat to the side, for show. _Turn your head, baby just spit me out._ Finished with the wet wipes, he offered one to Jensen, who flushed deeper but accepted. Then he got up off the floor, one knee cracking, and moved to a trash bin where he tossed in the cloths, then unzipped and cleaned himself up as best he could, keeping his back to the other man. 

“So,” Jared said, when he’d calmed. He returned to his chair. “Now’s about the time one of three things happens. One, you run off all traumatized and never come back. Two, you fixate on me and I have to cut this off. Or, better, third option, the business part is just that, we’re still friends or whatever even though it’s been kind of a long time, and maybe we can hang out or something.” He shrugged. “Or not.” 

Jensen seemed to be processing that. “Um. Wasn’t thinking of a BBQ with the fam or anything. Play Station?” He put on and began to button up his shirt, and Jared was sorry to see the expanse of his torso and the pretty pink nipples that he hadn’t even gotten to touch, covered. His eyes probably made that plain, but he didn’t mention it. 

“Okay, sure. Sounds good. Before that, let’s just hash out a few more details, for the future.”

“Like?” Jensen visibly tensed. 

“Well, you keep this to yourself, first and foremost.” 

“Obviously.” This was delivered with a faint sneer. “Who would I tell? I basically just whored myself--”

“No,” Jared cut him off. “You took action on your financial situation. You went to a friend for help.” 

“I jerked it in his face.”

“And he liked it. A lot. So much that he came without being so much as breathed on. In case that was lost on you.”

Jensen looked away, color rising yet again. Jared was beginning to wonder just how much one man could blush – and why. “So, uh, that’s your thing? Watching?” he asked, as if he’d rehearsed the question. 

Jared considered. “It’s my gateway drug, I s’pose. No one has ever really asked. Yeah, I like it. Which brings me to what else you might be willing to do, if there’s a next time.” 

“Uh... ideally, there wouldn’t be.” Then Jensen added hurriedly, “Because I’d get some paid work. Not that I’m not grateful, alright? So, uh, this was... okay, for me. Not too freak-out worthy. And if you actually wanted to suck me off, that would work. What did you have in mind?”

 _You, Jensen._ “Like I said before, that all depends on you. Beyond your proposal, there’s...” Jared gathered his thoughts, his desires, various things he’d asked of his boys in the past. “That, and you reciprocating. Sixty-nining. Frottage, clothed or not. I could eat you out, and believe it when I tell you that I know what I’m doing. There’s any manner of kink, although I’m not all that into it.” 

There was another snort, and Jensen looked at him like he’d grown a third eye. “As if. What Chad was doing to you when I just happened to walk in wasn’t kinky? Your scrote healed yet? Jesus.”

“That’s a rarity. I needed it, but it also it served to introduce you to the notion that... this isn’t anything exclusive.”

“Oh, like everyone in Hollywood doesn’t know about you by now. I stay away from the spotlight, always did, but even I heard about it.” 

“Only because you looked into it,” Jared pointed out. “Didn’t you?” 

There was no answer, so he went back to his list. “I can make concessions, on the kink stuff, but I don’t sub. Ever. Except with Chad. Which isn't to say I never bottom. I'm more of a vanilla guy: making out, kissing... to some people, that’s either boring or too personal, but I’m into it. It feels good. And... I’d love to fuck you, Jensen.” 

“I’ve never...”

“I figured as much, which only makes it more of a thing. You could ask a shit-ton of cash, you know. There are those who could pay way more than me.”

“If it ever happened, I wouldn't go to anyone else. Never. Not even for... Like what we did today. Hell, never pictured this...”

“Don’t. I’m not your life counselor. You couldn’t pay me enough for that.” Jared grinned wryly. “But I could always pay you to spill your guts, if that’s your thing and it’s part of a scene. So, Mr. Ackles, _'tell me about your mah-zhah.'_ Or perhaps you could explain what you meant when you said you haven't had 'anything decent' in a couple years?” He shot for casual, maybe too casual; Jensen narrowed his eyes. For a minute, it looked like he might answer straight out, but he didn't take the bait. 

“Just out of curiosity, how much?” he asked instead. 

“What?” Jared played dumb. "To be Dr. Freud for you?"

“No. For you to fuck me.”

“Well, that was blunt." 

"Not really," Jensen countered. "You brought it up before. Just curious." 

"No hypotheticals. At such time you’re serious about it, we’ll haggle. Did we not also cover that the first time we discussed all this?”

“Oh. Right. But you know what? I think I’ll just... go. For today.”

It was disappointing. Jared had been a little too delighted by Jensen's suggestion to hang around for a few more hours. 

"Oh come on, you look like someone just told you that your dog died," Jensen actually laughed. 

It wasn't that level of distress by far, easy enough to cover, but Jared did have to make an effort to get his face in order. “Sure, no prob. I was just... Well, never mind.” He scrubbed a hand through his sweaty hair. 

"Pretty sure I'll be back. I even have an idea for it. So. Clowns or midgets?" 

Jared scowled. 

"Just kidding!" Holding his hands up before him, palms facing Jared, Jensen winked, actually winked at him.

Jared had no idea what to do with that. Orgasms made him sluggish; it had the opposite effect on Jensen, apparently. The man was about to bounce in his chair from the look of it. 

“Thanks, man.” Jensen stood; Jared did likewise. The shorter man came forward; as at their first meeting since this adventure started, their parting hug, a double back-slapper, was only a little uncomfortable. Jared could sense a degree of relief from Jensen. “This will help. I’ll see myself out.” 

“Just a minute, Jensen.” Once again Jared unbuttoned the side pocket of his cargo shorts, the other side this time. “Don’t undervalue yourself, man; I don’t care what ‘they’ say. This is your fee. The rest of it. Thank you.” He pushed a thicker envelope into Jensen’s surprised hands and herded him out. 

*/*/*/*

Two days later, he was still trying to get a handle on what had happened. He'd never let anyone break him out of his SOP before. Jared didn't know if he should be pissed or not, and at whom.

Two weeks, and he hadn't had a call from Jensen, no text, nothing. Maybe he'd landed a role. Would've been nice to know, so he could congratulate him, if nothing else. Maybe things weren't going so well at home. He had no way of knowing, which was what bothered him most. 

One morning not long after, Genevieve interrupted his morning session in the shower, tapping the glass apologetically but insisting, "You'd better get down here... Now." 

Jared dried off quickly, shoved his still half-hard cock into his jeans, threw on a long plaid button-down, and went to face the music. In his front foyer, he found an older couple, both looking grave; a smoking-hot and totally pissed-off redheaded woman; three small tow-headed children... and Jensen. An unhappy Jensen, who shifted his feet and shook his head without a word. 

"Hi, everyone," Jared began, on the outside chance he could fake out what he was pretty sure was otherwise known as 'The Ackles Invasion'. "Nice to see y'all." 

Not a chance. He got stony silence. Gen came up beside him and pressed herself to his side, a gesture of solidarity. He put his arm around her. "Shit," was all he could think of to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Mayhem: In case you don't know, one CMM's internet nicknames from way back.  
> Song lyrics: "December", by Collective Soul.  
> "...Mah-zhah": accent ala Siggy Freud


End file.
